


Hitsuzen

by rinthegreat



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - xxxHOLIC, Fate, M/M, MakoRin Week, minimal xxxholic knowledge needed, no warnings listed so no spoilers, probably, shopkeeper!Rin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinthegreat/pseuds/rinthegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto stumbles across a small shop on a side street in Tokyo.  The gorgeous shopkeeper and his helper keep Makoto coming back, but this is no ordinary shop.  It exists to grant wishes.</p><p>MakoRin Week 2015 Day 2: Fate</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hitsuzen

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my favorite thing I've ever written. [Now with art!](https://rinthegreat.tumblr.com/post/162486791552/i-commissioned-this-piece-from-cellyfish-art)

            Makoto finds it when he’s wandering aimlessly around Tokyo his first year in university.  It’s a small building, traditional Japanese style, nestled between two larger buildings on a side street.  He’s not sure what draws him to the wooden gate.  Maybe it’s how out of place the building seems.  Maybe it’s the smell of good cooking coming from inside.  Whatever it is takes over his body, and he finds himself pushing aside the gate and trespassing on someone else’s lawn.

            There are two small boys running around in the yard, giggling as they play, not seeming to care that a stranger has just trespassed on their property.  Makoto’s embarrassed, but the feeling is distant, like it’s someone else.  So instead he sidesteps their game and walks up to the front door.

            He raises his hand to knock, but the door opens of its own accord, a smoky haze dissipating from behind it as if it had been what had done the deed.  Makoto looks around, but doesn’t see anyone.

            “Come in.”  The voice comes from somewhere inside the house, drawing him in.

            He slips off his shoes, using the waiting set of guest slippers, and steps inside.

            Something smells amazing.  He walks past an area which might lead to the kitchen and hear the distinct sound of someone cooking.  He ignores the instant rumbling of his stomach, strange since he’d just eaten, and instead continues down the hallway and turns left into the main sitting room.

            He doesn’t know how he knows that’s where he needs to go.  His body just _moves_ of its own accord, leading him into the room.  He knows he’s right the moment he enters.  The room isn’t empty.

            Sitting at a table set for two is the most beautiful man – no not just man, the most beautiful _person –_ Makoto’s ever seen.  He has red hair, a deep wine, pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his head.  His skin in flawless and pale; it makes him think of royalty.  He’s holding a pipe in between slender fingers and resting his kimono-clad elbow on the table.

            But the thing that gets Makoto’s attention the most, the thing that hypnotizes him and leads him further into the room, is the look the other is giving him.  He has red eyes, though not as red as his hair, and they are leveled at him, making him feel like a fish caught in the eyes of a predator.  Adding to that is the confident half smile the other has on his face, revealing a sparkling set of pointed teeth.

            The man gestures to the seat opposite him.  “Please, sit down.”  It’s the same voice that he heard in the entryway.

            Makoto splutters but does as instructed.  “I – I’m very sorry for intruding in your house.  I’m not entirely sure what led me in here…”  He trails off, feeling very strange about the whole thing.

            If possible, the man’s smile just widens further.  “Of course you don’t.  You’re a customer.”

            “A what?”

            But before the strange man – in an ornate kimono, how had he missed that? – could answer, the door to the hallway slid open again, and the man’s attention is diverted.

            “Ah, Haru.  Thank you.  And can we get some more sake?”

            Makoto looks behind himself and sees another man enter, almost as beautiful as the first.  This one has raven black hair and eyes as blue and deep as the sea.  He must’ve been the one cooking, Makoto realizes, when he sees the platter of food.  Haru, as the red haired man had called him, just nods and sets down the platter, then leaves again.  Presumably to get more food.

            “So,” Makoto turns his attention back to the red haired man.  “What can I do for you?”

            “Um, what?”

            “You have a wish, do you not?”

            Makoto stares at him, before blinking slowly.  “A…wish?”

            “Yes.  A wish.”  The two of them look down at what had spoken, and Makoto almost pinches himself to wake up.  Sitting there, staring up at them, is the strangest looking penguin he’s ever seen.

            The redhead huffs.  “We’ve talked about this.  Don’t scare the customers.”

            The bird sticks out his tongue at the redhead, but then hops off the table obediently.  Makoto shakes his head.  He is now convinced this is a dream, and it’s probably the strangest one he’s ever had.  Sousuke’s going to get a kick out of it when he tells him tomorrow.

            The redhead is still looking at him expectantly when the other man, Haru, returns.  He leaves a bottle of sake on the table along with two traditional sized cups, and then leaves again without saying a word.  Makoto pinches himself.  It hurts, but he doesn’t wake up.

            “I’m sorry.  I don’t really…understand.”  He admits finally when he’s confirmed that this isn’t, in fact, a dream.  For one thing, he can remember how he got here.  For another, that pinch _hurt_.

            The redhead sighs, like Makoto’s being difficult.  “You felt drawn to this shop, right?  You weren’t sure what or why, but you found yourself wandering down streets you’ve never walked down before, and something about this shop made you walk through the gate and knock on my door.”

            “I never…Yes, but how did you know?”

            The man brings the pipes to his lips and sucks in a breath, exhaling the smoke slowly, creating rings with it.  Makoto stares at them until he speaks again, his eyes going back to the man.  “Because.  What brought you here wasn’t coincidence.  It was inevitability.”  The man’s eyes dart back to him.  “Fate.”  He sits up straighter and grabs the cups, pouring two cups of sake.  He pushes one to Makoto, who takes it dumbly.  “This is a shop which grants wishes.  So, I’ll ask you again: what is your wish?”

            Makoto watched the man take his sake and drink it in one gulp, his throat working.  He has plenty of wishes.  He wishes for good grades, wishes that his parents and siblings back home will be happy, wishes that Sousuke will find someone who will make him happy, wishes that _he_ can find someone who can make him happy…His wishes are endless.  But…none of them seem _right_.  So instead he tells the man.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t have a wish.”

            When the man sets down his cup, the look he gives Makoto is disbelieving.  He stares at Makoto, calculating glint in his eye, and Makoto looks right back, feeling too much like a fly caught in a spider’s web to be comfortable.  In a sudden rustling of fabric, the man stands up and sweeps over to Makoto, kneeling in front of him.

            He should be concerned.  This is a stranger, whose strange house he’d just invaded, who keeps spouting strange things about wishes and fate and…

            When the man places his fingers on Makoto’s cheek, his mind quiets.  He stares into the red haired man’s eyes and feels like he’s drowning in a pool made of cherry blossom petals.  It’s terrifying and strange but at the same time comforting and familiar.  He could sit here and drown like this for all of eternity and come out the other end happy.

            His face is cold when the other’s fingers disappear, and he leans forward towards the warmth before he can stop himself.  When he manages to regain control of himself enough to look at the man’s _expression_ instead of just drowning in his eyes, he sees confusion and mild alarm.  Makoto shrinks back automatically, not liking that he created that expression.

            “I…don’t understand,” the man says, sounding unsure and the exact opposite of the cool confidence he’d exuded previously.  For some reason, that concerns Makoto.

            “What?”

            The man shakes his head and stands again, rustling his kimono as he returns to his side of the table.  “You don’t have a wish.”

            That doesn’t seem all that concerning to Makoto.  After all, he’d just told the man the same thing previously.  “Ah, no.  I don’t.”  He confirms, though his words don’t cause the man to look up from where he’s puzzling out the grain of wood on the table below them.

            “But you saw the shop.”

            The glass door behind the redhead opens then, letting in the two boys from before.  They enter, standing directly next to each other with eerily similar stances.  If it weren’t for their completely different appearances – one with orange hair and golden eyes, the other with silver hair and blue eyes – he would think they’re brothers.  They peer at him, gazes as if looking into Makoto’s very soul, and when they speak, it’s in unison.  “He’s not a customer.”

            “No…”  The red haired man agrees.  “He’s not.”

            For some reason, the fact that Makoto doesn’t have a wish seems to be very intriguing for the entire household.  Haru returns from the kitchen and stares at him, and the strange penguin from before reappears.  He even spots a butterfly perched on Haru’s shoulder, which seems to be evaluating him.  The whole situation makes him rather uncomfortable.

            “Um,” he speaks up after a solid fifteen minutes of them all staring at him.  “I’m sorry for intruding on your…shop.  There must’ve been a mistake…”

            At his words, the redhead shakes his head adamantly.  “That you’re here is no mistake.  I’ve told you; there’s no such thing as coincidence.  If you weren’t meant to be here, you wouldn’t have seen the building.”

            “What?”  Makoto asks, looking to the boys then to Haru for explanation.

            “Rin,” Haru speaks, his eyes still on Makoto.  “Don’t be so cryptic.”

            The redhead tuts, but now Makoto finally knows his name.  _Rin_.  It’s a girl’s name, much like his own and Haru’s.  He wonders if that’s the thing they have in common.

            “What I mean to say,” Rin says after a deep sigh, “is that this place cannot be seen by normal humans.  It’s…” he waves his hand vaguely, “in between dimensions.  Only the people who have wishes or,” he side-eyes Haru at this one, “need to be here for some reason, can see it.”

            Makoto raises his eyebrows.  This whole thing, logically, sounds insane.  Using his brain, he would say that this is clearly a dream or some people messing with him.  But his gut tells him that, yes, everything they’re saying is completely correct, and his gut’s never led him wrong before.  At least not yet.

            “We should study it,” comes a voice Makoto hasn’t heard before.  He looks around the room for the source, and somehow isn’t surprised to see Rin glare at the butterfly on Haru’s shoulder.

            “He’s a guest, we’re not going to _study_ him, Rei.”

            Even the butterfly has a girly name, Makoto notes, light headed from all of this.  Or maybe from the smoke.  They continue to argue in the background as Makoto grows more and more light headed.

            “Hey,” he hears Haru speak distantly.  “He doesn’t look so good.”

            “I’m fine,” he says.  Or rather, he means to say.  “M fff,” is all that ends up coming out.  The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is a sharp frown of concern marring Rin’s otherwise perfect features.

            _What a waste_ , he thinks, as blackness consumes him.

* * *

 

            When he wakes up, it’s to unfamiliar surroundings.  He’s covered in blankets, and there are curtains surrounding the bed he’s in.  Makoto blinks blearily around him as the memories from…whenever it was before come rushing back.  He sits up and rubs his head, wondering what could’ve caused him to lose consciousness in the first place, when he notices that he’s been changed.  He’s wearing a kimono now, though it’s green and much plainer than the one Rin had been wearing before.

            Rin.  He doesn’t know what it is about the redhead, other than his beauty, but he thinks, no he _knows_ that Rin’s the reason Makoto was drawn to this building in the first place.  The same way he knows that all of this is real and not a dream.

            He stands up, the kimono fluttering around his ankles, and walks around the room to the window.  He can make out all of Tokyo through it.  The tops of the buildings and the trees.  Makoto blinks.  That can’t be right.  He knows this house isn’t tall enough to see over the buildings next to it, let alone all the way to the Tokyo tower.  He rubs his eyes and looks again, but the scenery hasn’t changed.  It’s something, like the talking penguin and butterfly, that Makoto will have to accept.

            There’s a knock on the door and when he turns, Haru is standing there with a tray.  He gives a small nod to Makoto and places the tray on the bedside table.  Makoto’s only just met him, but he would already guess that the guy isn’t one to make small talk.  Regardless, he stops him with a question.  “Um…Haru-san?”  He speaks the man’s name warily, not knowing quite how to address him.  The man turns around, but doesn’t seem overly irritated with a stranger using his given name.  “What time is it?”

            Haru stares at him, expression unreadable, before responding.  “You were out all night.  That’s breakfast.”  It’s not the question Makoto asked, but it’s the answer he’d been looking for.  He shakes his head to himself when Haru leaves.  This whole situation is just strange.

            He eats the provided breakfast though, not surprised to find it delicious, and carries the tray out of the room.  For some reason, he’s oddly unbothered by the knowledge that he’s probably missing his first class right now.  He really needs to get a grip on himself.

            Haru’s cleaning when he comes downstairs.  He turns as if he heard Makoto stomping down the hallway – he thought he’d been walking quietly – and motions to the kitchen before returning to his work.  Makoto obeys the unspoken request and deposits the tray in the sink before coming back out.  Compared to the afternoon before, the house feels strangely quiet now.  There are no signs of anyone else up and about aside from him and Haru.

            “Rin sleeps in in the mornings,” Haru tells him, not looking around.  He doesn’t tell Makoto that he’s welcome to wait, but he also doesn’t ask him to leave.

            He wants to stay.  But at the same time, he should really go to class.  “Where are my clothes?”

            Haru stops sweeping.  He sets the broom aside and brushes past where Makoto is hovering in the door, motioning for him to follow down the hallway.  They reach the room Makoto had been sleeping in and there, at the foot of the bed, are his clothes folded into a nice pile.  He must’ve just missed them when he’d been walking around earlier.  Or something like that.  “Thank you,” he tells the now empty room; Haru’s already gone.

            Makoto changes quickly and folds the kimono, setting it on the foot of the bed where his own clothes had just laid prior.  It’s a nice material, he notes, feeling it with his fingers.  He wonders who picked it out and changed him into it.  It’s the exact same color as his eyes.

            Haru is still cleaning when Makoto reappears.  He doesn’t seem all that bothered to have Makoto hovering in the background, but he still feels awkward.  “I’ll, uh, see you later then,” he tells Haru.  The other pauses in his work, setting down his duster, and passes Makoto, leading the way to the door.

            Makoto’s shoes are still sitting in the exact same spot he left them, untouched.  He doesn’t know why that seems stranger to him than anything else that’s happened, but for some reason it does.  He slips them on, Haru still watching him with that same expression and bows before leaving the house.

            It isn’t until he’s walked out of the gate and down the street that he looks at his phone.  He has about 10 minutes to get across the city to his first class.  The care which was absent earlier comes back full force and Makoto breaks into a run.  He’s never been late before.  Sousuke’s not going to let him hear the end of this.

* * *

 

            “It happened.”  Makoto insists for the tenth time while he and Sousuke are eating lunch together.  His best friend still isn’t buying it.

            “I don’t believe any of it.  And you know why?  Because Tachibana Makoto doesn’t just trespass on other people’s property.  That’s the most unbelievable part.”  There’s a smile playing on Sousuke’s face though, even as he steals another fry from Makoto’s plate.  It had been a rough morning; he didn’t have time to make himself lunch.  So sue him.

            Makoto doesn’t pout.  It isn’t in his nature.  He also doesn’t usually argue for this long though, but it’s important that Sousuke believe him.  He doesn’t know why; it just is.  “Sousuke.”

            “Makoto.”

            “Come with me after class.  I’ll take you to the place and show you it’s real.”

            Sousuke raises an eyebrow.  “This isn’t like you.  You sure you’re ok?”  The voice is only half teasing in nature, real concern laced in the in between.

            _Yes, I’m fine_ , he wants to say.  The more honest answer would be _no, I think I’m going crazy_.  What he does instead is practically beg Sousuke to come with him.  “Just to look.  I promise it’s real.”

            The look Sousuke gives him is filled with disbelief and a hint of pity.  But he steals another fry and shrugs.  “Fine.”

            They go after class.  Makoto’s leg shakes on the train ride there, drawing raised eyebrows from the other passengers until Sousuke leans in.  “You’re freaking people out.  Calm down.”

            “I am calm,” he whispers back, feeling as far from calm as he’s ever been.  The thought of seeing Rin again, seeing the flowing kimono with cherry blossoms which seemed to fall with every shift of Rin’s weight, seeing the ornate pipe held between long slender fingers as Rin inhales the smoke, seeing all of that and a thousand other things makes him so nervous he’s sweating.  Bringing Sousuke with him leads to all kind of thoughts.  What if he’d dreamed it?  What if Sousuke was right and none of this is real?  What if they get there and this time Rin looks at Sousuke with that long stare and ignores Makoto?  What if, what if, what if.  They dance around in his mind, making themselves known through the shaking of his leg.  He can’t make it stop through the force of his will alone.  Maybe he _is_ going mad.

            The train announces their stop, and Makoto all but jumps up, leading an obviously concerned Sousuke out into the station.  Sousuke follows behind him as he leads them out of the station and down the residential streets there.  Makoto walks, completely sure of himself, but after the third turn, he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.  He turns around to see a slightly panting Sousuke.  Oh.  He hadn’t realized he’d been walking that fast.

            “You’re seriously concerning me, Makoto.”  Sousuke tells him once he’s caught his breath.  “Let’s go back.”  The worry isn’t even laced between his words this time.  No, every syllable is dripping with it, and it’s edged into the frown on his face.

            He feels guilty, but less so than he normally would.  Right now, he’s still filled with nervous tension that he’ll arrive there to find more houses, and that the shop of wishes never existed in the first place.  “We’re close,” he promises.  “Just a few more blocks.  Please.”

            Sousuke pauses for so long, Makoto thinks he might actually deny him this.  But then he nods, small and acquiescing, and Makoto all but sprints off.

            It is only a few more blocks, and when they round the last curve, he breathes out a sigh of relief, tension leaving his body.  It’s still there.  The fence, the building, everything.  He can even hear the sounds of the two boys playing in the yard.  He grins, wide and satisfying, and turns to Sousuke.  But the ‘I told you so’ dies on his lips at the look on the other’s face.

            “It’s just an empty lot.”

            They go home, then, Makoto only agreeing because the knowledge that the place still exists calms him enough to put his best friend’s needs above his own again.  Sousuke keeps eyeing him with unbridled concern on the train ride back, but Makoto just stares out the window into the darkness.

            It’s just like Rin had said.  _Only the people who have wishes or need to be here for some reason can see it._   It’s further evidence that everything Rin had said was true.  That or evidence that he’s finally gone off the deep end, pushed into seeing imaginary beautiful men after too many late nights studying, compensated with caffeine instead of sleep.

            When they get back to Makoto’s apartment, Sousuke insists on walking him inside.  “No studying,” his best friend insists as soon as Makoto finds his key.  “Turn off your alarm and go straight to bed.  If you need to miss class tomorrow, I’ll get the notes for you, ok?  Just…”  He trails off.

            Makoto rests his hands on both of his friend’s shoulders, sending him a reassuring smile.  Sousuke couldn’t see the shop, so no matter what Makoto does, he won’t believe him.  Insisting he’s fine isn’t the answer.  Instead he just apologizes.  “Sorry I worried you.  I’ll make sure to get plenty of sleep.”

            The relief on Sousuke’s face is still clouded with that same concern, but it’s there nonetheless.  “Sleep well Makoto.”  He claps Makoto on the back and leaves, shoulders still tight with obvious concern.

* * *

 

            Makoto takes Sousuke’s advice and sleeps in in the morning.  When he does get up, he decides that, since he’s already missed one class he may as well miss them all.  It’s almost the weekend anyway, and his record is no longer spotless.

            He gets dressed and gets on the train, going straight to the shop.  It’s still there, but he’s not as concerned that it would’ve disappeared this time.  He hears the boys playing in the yard, and when he pushes open the gate, the smell of Haru’s cooking wafts towards him.

            “You came back.”  He pauses on his way to the front door and turns to see Rin sitting – no that’s not the right word – _lounging_ on the porch, smoking.  There’s a bottle of sake next to him along with the pipe Makoto had a dream about the night before.

            “Yes.”  He walks over, wondering why he already feels so familiar with Rin when the other doesn’t even know his name.  “My name is Tachibana Makoto.  Born November 17th.  Age 20.  Blood type –“

            Rin holds up his hand.  “Names have power by themselves.  Telling someone you hardly know all that information gives them power over you.”

            Makoto blinks.  Rin doesn’t look like he’s joking.  “Ah…but I know your name…”

            The grin Rin gives him is more playful in nature than the ones Makoto remembers, making his stomach flip uncomfortably.  “That name’s fake, of course.”

            “O-oh.”  Makoto stutters.  For a wild moment there, he’d thought he’d have power over this magical being.  Even the idea of it is enough to make him blush red up to his ears.  He looks away instead, and spots the strange penguin snoring under a tree.  “Can…all penguins talk?”

            The laugh Rin gives out is a harsh bark, as if Makoto had shocked it straight from his chest.  It sounds unbridled somehow, and his stomach swoops again, making his hands flutter to his mid-section as if to hold it in place.  “No.  Nagisa’s just special.”

            “Oh.”  Makoto tries to think of something more to say.  Of some other conversation topic he can have with this man who knows more about things Makoto’s never dreamed of than he will ever know himself.

            “Rin, can you please stop drinking all the sake?”  Haru’s voice grouses before Makoto can find a topic that he’ll feel a little less lost on.  The other man appears, opening the glass door and coming out with more sake.

            Rin ignores the comment.  “Haru, we’ll need a second sake cup.”

            “At least listen when people talk to you,” Haru complains, but he disappears back in the house anyway.

            The boys are still running around, playing a game that Makoto can’t quite follow.  They remind him of his own siblings, back home in Iwatobi.  “Who are they?”  He asks, partly out of curiosity and partly so he has an excuse to hear Rin’s voice again.

            The redhead takes a long drag of his pipe before blowing the smoke out in little rings.  “I suppose if I had to give them names, they’d be Ai and Momo.”  He motions first to the silver haired boy, then the orange haired one.

            Everything Rin says confuses him, but this one especially.  “Do they not have names?”

            “Hmm…”  Rin thinks for a moment, trailing off when Haru comes back out and sets a second sake cup alongside Makoto.  Makoto thanks him, and the other responds with nothing more than a cursory nod.  “Not separately they don’t.  Not really.”

            “All people have names,” Makoto insists, not really sure why this detail is so important to him.  It just is.

            Rin smiles again, mysterious.  “Ah, but there’s your answer, Tachibana-kun.  They aren’t people.”

            “Huh?”

            “Ai and Momo.  They aren’t people, not in the human sense of the word.  They’re more like…spirits.”

            “Spirits?”  There it is again; Rin’s saying crazy things, but deep in Makoto’s gut he knows they’re true.

            “Yes.  They’re what keep this shop alive, more than I do.  If it weren’t for their power, you wouldn’t even be able to see it.”

            It doesn’t make a lot of sense to him, but Rin just points.  Makoto follows the slender finger to the figures now sleeping in the middle of the yard.  “See?  The amount of power it takes to keep the shop in this dimension takes a lot out of them.”

            “…I guess there are just some things I’ll never understand.”

            “You’re an interesting human Tachibana-kun.”

            It bothers him, for some reason, that Rin calls him by his family name rather than his given one.  He knows it’s more polite, but he doesn’t want that.  “Makoto,” he corrects, startling even himself.

            Rin gives him a shocked look, like he hadn’t been expecting it either, but then smiles, this time more genuine than the one he had given before.  “Makoto then.”

            They sit there on the porch, drinking sake and eating Haru’s snacks, while Makoto asks questions about this and that and Rin gives him progressively more and more cryptic answers.  He doesn’t mind, just asks more questions, waiting for the shopkeeper to tire of it.  He never does.

            They talk for so long that Makoto loses track of time, and it isn’t until Haru pokes his head out and asks Makoto if he’s staying the night that he realizes how late it’s been.  “Oh,” he exhales in surprise.  “I should go.  I’m going to miss the last bus.”

            He catches Rin’s eye, and for a moment he sees something there, an expression he hadn’t noticed on him all day.  But then it’s gone, replaced by the cool confidence he usual exudes.  “Of course, Makoto.  Till we meet again, then.”

            He hadn’t wanted to ask if he would be allowed a return visit, so when Rin says that Makoto smiles.  “I’d like that.”

            Rin looks away and for a minute, Makoto thinks he sees a blush creep up the back of the shopkeeper’s neck.  When Rin looks back at him, there are no signs of it though, so he writes it off as a trick of the light.

            It isn’t until later that night, after Makoto messages Sousuke letting him know that, yes everything’s fine and yes, he had just been tired, that it hits him.  The expression on Rin’s face; it had been loneliness.  Makoto shakes his head into his pillow.  That’s ridiculous; Rin has plenty of people around him.  Why would he ever be lonely?

* * *

 

            Going to the shop becomes a habit after that.  Makoto stops by whenever he has the chance.  After class, on the weekends he and Sousuke don’t have plans, in the evenings.  Sometimes it’s just like the second time he’d been there; Makoto and Rin sit on the porch and Rin humors Makoto’s no doubt stupid questions.  Other times it’s more like the first time he was there.  He sits talking to Rin for a while, but then the redhead gets distracted.  “Oh…”  He always says.  “A customer.”

            It’s always the same when the customers come in.  Makoto stays on the porch and watches the whole affair from afar.  The customer invariably seems just as confused and apologetic as he had been the first time he’d stepped into the shop.  The difference, though, is that as soon as Rin asks what their wish is, they have an answer.

            Not all wishes are the same, Makoto learns.  Some people have selfish wishes; they want someone to notice them, they want more money, they want to be recognized.  Other wishes are selfless; a mother who wants her child to stop being bullied at school, and aunt who wishes her nephew will finally be seen for his talent, a girl who wishes that her best friend won’t be lonely when she studies abroad.  The rare few wishes don’t make any sense to Makoto, but they leave Rin with a forlorn expression.  He hates those wishes.

            But all wishes have something in common; they all have a price.  “Equivalent exchange,” Rin explains to him when he asks.  “A wish cannot be granted unless something of equal worth is given in return.”

            It tugs at Makoto’s heartstrings to see these people.  To see them want something so bad that they wander into a part of Tokyo they’ve never visited before, only to give up something they value as much as the wish itself.  Rin spins words like _fate_ and _equivalent exchange_ around, but the whole thing feels depressing to Makoto.

            “Yes, well,” Rin agrees, giving him the somber smile that Makoto hates more than any other expression on Rin’s face, “you’re the strange one, coming here without a wish at all.”

            “What about Haru?”  Makoto asks, because he hasn’t missed the looks Rin and Haru exchange whenever the subject of _how Makoto found them_ comes up.  “Did he have a wish?”

            Rin raises an eyebrow, but at least the bleak expression is gone.  “In a way, I suppose.”

            “So then why is he still here if all the other customers leave?”  He hopes his tone doesn’t come out as jealous as the words themselves.

            “Haru’s payment is that he has to work for me,” Rin explains simply.  In the background, Makoto swears he hears Haru snort.

            “Maybe I should work for you too,” he suggests, hope bubbling in his words.  If he could have another excuse to spend time here with Rin, that would be –

            “Absolutely not.”  Rin’s expression is horrified, causing Makoto to shrink back from him.  The shopkeeper eventually recovers, though the mask he puts back on has cracks on the edges, letting that same horror seep through.  “The job is dangerous after all, even an anomaly like you couldn’t be expected to be my assistant.”

            Makoto chuckles at that, assuming it’s a joke, and Rin grants him a small crooked smile.

            It’s not a joke, Makoto learns one evening when he enters.  Rin isn’t outside on the porch smoking, like he usually is, so Makoto thinks he must be in with a customer.  The door doesn’t open for him though, and when he enters, there’s dirt on the entryway that he knows Haru wouldn’t allow.

            A sense of foreboding fills him, but rather than sending him away, it makes him rush in, all the way to the main room.  It’s empty of everything but a still smoking pipe.  Real concern overwhelms him now, and Makoto follows the feeling to the guest room he’d stayed in before.

            When he opens the door, he almost thinks he’s in a different house.

            Standing at the foot of the bed is a dirtied and slightly bloodied man.  Or at least, Makoto thinks he’s a man.  He has wings coming out of his back, beautiful and purple, that look exactly like the butterfly’s wings.  Next to him, fretting, is a blonde man wearing a black kimono who Makoto has never seen.  Ai and Momo are huddled together on the other side, concerned looks mirror images of each other as they gaze down at the bed.

            “Haru, wake up.  Haru!”  Rin’s back is to Makoto where he’s hunched over the bed.  Given the scene he’d just walked into, Makoto would guess that Haru’s the one lying on the bed.  Part of him wants to just leave, but a much stronger part urges his feet forward until he’s standing just next to Rin.

            He blanches.  Haru’s head is bandaged, but Makoto can still see the dried blood on the corner of his mouth and the bruise high on his cheekbone.  Another bandage covers the man’s shoulder, ending somewhere below the blankets.  He has one hand outside the confines of the covers, but it’s being enveloped with Rin’s own.

            And Rin…he looks more torn up than he has granting any wish that Makoto’s witnessed.  _I don’t belong here_ , he thinks wildly, looking around at the strange gathering of…spirits or whatever hovering over Haru’s still body.

            But still, Makoto can’t stop himself from resting a comforting hand on the shopkeeper’s shoulder.  Rin startles, for the first time not expecting Makoto to appear.  When the shopkeeper looks up at him it’s with tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes, and a fierce protectiveness flows through his very core.  This is the shopkeeper, _Rin_ , and whoever changed his expression to this would pay for what they did.

            “Come on,” he urges Rin up and away.  “You won’t do any good just by hovering over him like this.”  His mother had said the same thing to him when he was younger, fretting over his sick siblings.

            He almost expects a fight, but Rin just slumps his shoulders and lets Makoto lead him away.  Makoto turns his head and sees the spirits behind them close in around Haru.  He’s not sure what makes him think it, but he knows they’ll take care of him.

            They don’t talk much that night.  Rin wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his kimono and proceeds to drink more alcohol in one sitting than Makoto’s seen anyone drink in a week.  He’d be more worried if he weren’t 100% certain that Rin’s not really a human.  So instead he makes sure that Rin’s covered with a blanket when he falls and cleans the house since Haru can’t.  He should feel more concerned.  He and Haru have become friends at this point, in a way.  But there’s a certainty in his bones that the other man will be just fine, is probably fine already.

            When he goes back in the room to check, Haru’s breathing normally, with Ai and Momo sprawled out on the bed next to him.  At the foot of the bed, he spots the penguin and butterfly sleeping peacefully.

* * *

 

            Sometimes when Makoto comes to visit, he meets other spirits.  It scares him at first, when he sees the strange girl approach surrounded by tiny men flying on what appear to be surfboards.  They’re more bark than bite, and when she introduces herself as the Zaski Warashi and shakes his hand with a sweaty palm he doesn’t understand why he was scared at all.

            Not all of them are as kind and sweet as the Zaski Warashi, though.  The Ame Warashi is a grumpy redheaded girl who complains every time she sees Makoto that “humans have no care or regard whatsoever with living nature.”  And every time they part ways, it rains the entire way back to his apartment.

            She’s not the scary one though.  The first time Makoto meets Jorougumo, he actually jumps behind Rin.  There’s nothing obviously terrifying about her; she’s an incredibly attractive blonde woman with curves who Makoto’s classmates would kill to see in real life.  Regardless, she’s staring at him like he’s a meal, and he gulps.

            “Is he the new trainee?”  She asks Rin, voice dripping with seduction.

            It’s miniscule, but Rin shifts his weight, putting himself further in front of Makoto than before.  “No.”  His voice is harsh as he answers, none of the kindness that he’d given the Zaski Warashi or the patient accommodation when talking to the Ame Warashi.

            Her eyebrows raise.  “Ah…”  She trills, sing song.  “A customer, then?”

            “He is none of your business,” Rin grits out.  “What is it you want, Jorougumo?”

            “I have a task for your,” she licks her lips, “current _trainee_.  The one with the delicious eyes.  I will, of course, compensate.”

            It seems like a bad idea.  Even to Makoto, who has only just met this spirit and doesn’t have anything against her like Rin seems to.  “I’ve told you before,” Rin states, firm.  “We don’t get involved in the squabbles between spirits.”

            She huffs, as if offended by being turned down, though her eyes say she expected nothing less.  She turns and walks back towards the gate, pausing to shoot one last string of venom behind her.  “Your time here is waning, shopkeeper.  We all can feel it.  Enjoy it while it lasts.”

            “I hate that woman,” Haru announces, walking out onto the porch with a tray of food when she finally leaves.

            Rin tuts and turns around, walking to where the snacks are.  “She’s a powerful spirit, Haru.  It wouldn’t be wise to make an enemy of her.”

            “Hypocrite,” Makoto thinks he hears Haru mutter before he walks back inside.  He still has a small limp when he walks, but otherwise all signs of the night Makoto walked in on him lying still on that bed are gone.

            Rin still doesn’t talk about it.

            “Rin?”  He asks later, when everything’s back to normal.  They’re inside now, the weather too cold to enjoy sitting on the porch while they drink and eat Haru’s food.  “What did she mean?”

            “Hmm?”  Rin takes another sip, either not comprehending or being intentionally obtuse.

            Makoto plays with the lid of his cup.  “You know.  The…spider lady from before.  When she said your time was waning.”

            Rin freezes for a moment, nearly imperceptible, before taking another sip and shrugging.  Too casual.  “Who knows with her.  She lives to stir up trouble.  Stay away from spiders this week, Makoto.”

            That’s the last they talk about it.

* * *

 

            The shop becomes a second home to Makoto, especially when Sousuke’s shoulder finally heals and he goes back to practice full time.  He takes his school work there and studies while Rin smokes and cares for customers who enter the shop and Haru disappears to take care of customers outside the shop.

            Rin sometimes insists on reading Makoto’s notes as well, laughing at the things humans find important.

            It’s comfortable, familiar, and Makoto longs for it when he’s in class.  He thinks about the soft sheets on Rin’s guest bed when he’s alone and cold on the weeknights.  He dreams of Haru’s cooking when he eats at the cafeteria.  Mostly, though, he thinks about Rin.  Rin’s laugh, his smile, his piercing eyes.  The way he seems to see through Makoto.

            Makoto wonders if Rin’s figured out how he feels about him.

            “Did you get yourself a girlfriend?”  Sousuke asks during one of their rare opportunities to hang out.

            Makoto pauses, chopsticks in midair as he looks at his best friend.  “What?”

            “You look…happier now.  And you’re smiling at your food like you’re thinking at someone.”

            Makoto flushes, because he is thinking about someone, but it’s not what Sousuke thinks.

            Or maybe it’s exactly what he thinks.

            “No, of course not.  I wouldn’t keep that a secret from you.”  It’s only half a lie.  He wouldn’t keep something like getting a girlfriend secret from Sousuke.  But the last time he tried to bring his best friend to the shop, Sousuke hadn’t been able to see it.

            Sousuke levels him with a look that he doesn’t believe Makoto.  He wishes he could just introduce him to Rin.  They’d probably get along.  But he just shrugs and heads off, because he has swim practice, like he always does, and no longer has time to worry about Makoto.

            When he gets to the shop that night, he finds it devoid of a certain red haired shopkeeper.  It’s the first time Haru’s been there when Rin hasn’t.  At least since Makoto started visiting.

            “Where’s Rin?” is the first question out of his mouth, instead of the polite hello he should give.

            Haru doesn’t seem bothered by it.  He doesn’t ever seem bothered by much really, except the Jorougumo, and even that was just a passing comment and a twitching of his eye.  “Not here,” is the cryptic answer from the other.  Rin must be giving him lessons.

            “Is he with a customer then?”  Makoto prompts.  He really wants to get an idea of if Rin is coming back anytime soon.  If it’s worth it to wait for him.

            Haru just shrugs again.

            Makoto stays anyway.  He stays far longer than he should, sitting at the table and doing his homework until the last train to get back to his place has long since passed.  He frets that he shouldn’t stay the night until Haru finally agrees to take him home.  He walks him out and points to the streetlamp near them.

            “Walk between the post and the fence,” he instructs.  If it weren’t for the difference in pitch, Makoto would swear it’s Rin talking to him.

            “What?”

            Haru doesn’t repeat himself.  He just points.  Feeling silly – really he could’ve just ordered a taxi – Makoto does as he’s told.  He turns to ask what the point was, but when he looks back he sees the sidewalk in his neighborhood as opposed to the one he’d just been in.  He walks back between the pole and the fence, but his location doesn’t change.

            It’s yet another spirit thing he’s going to have to get used to, he figures, making a mental note to ask Rin about it next time he visits the shop.

            But Rin isn’t there the next time he visits.  Or the time after that.  Or even the one after that.  He isn’t there for so long that Makoto starts to wonder if he imagined Rin in the first place.  He doesn’t like the thought of that, but that doesn’t stop it from cropping up when it shouldn’t.  It itches just under his skin, burrowing into his thoughts as he tries to pay attention in class, and consumes him until he bursts out of the lecture hall just as it ends and sprints all the way to the shop.

            He’s short of breath and sweating when he bursts through the gate to the shop.  He means to march in and demand that Haru tell him _exactly_ where Rin’s disappeared to – he has no right he knows that – but his plan flies out the window when he sees the shopkeeper sitting on the porch.

            It’s cold outside, cold enough that Makoto can see his breath as he huffs, but Rin doesn’t seem to mind all that much outside of wearing a thicker kimono.  He seems the same as normal, smoking and drinking while the boys run around the yard.  Or at least that’s what Makoto thinks until he’s close enough to make out Rin’s features.

            Makoto sucks in a breath at the sight.

            Rin’s paler than he was before, aside from the area just under his eyes which are a dark purple.  His face is drawn over his cheekbones, thinner than Makoto remembers.  And his fingers shake when he brings the pipe to his lips.  It’s a small change, imperceptible at first, but Makoto’s been watching Rin for months now, and to him this couldn’t be more obvious.

            “Makoto,” Rin greets, tilting his head slightly at the other.  His smile is paper thin, and Makoto has the insane thought that a hint of wind could blow it right off Rin’s face.

            “Rin,” he returns, voice stronger than he feels.  Rin nods at the spot next to him, and Makoto sits down, ignoring the chill of the porch beneath his legs as best he can.

            He wants to reach out, grab Rin’s hand, force some of the warmth in his body into the other.  Instead he just curls his fingers into a fist at his side as Rin takes another drag from his pipe.  “No schoolwork today?”  The redhead asks, like he hasn’t been gone for the past two weeks.  Like Makoto wasn’t worried.

            “Where were you?”  The question forces itself out from between clenched teeth.  He’s half surprised he asked it, but not completely.  He’s been driven out of his mind ever since he met Rin.

            Rin’s lips fade into a tight, thin line as he closes himself to Makoto.  “Nowhere important,” he answers finally.

            Makoto turns to stare at him because really?  _Really?_   He doesn’t know why he’s so mad, except that Rin came back from wherever he’d gone looking like he’s dying, and Makoto won’t have it.  He _won’t_.  “It must’ve been pretty important.”  His voice comes out in that same motherly tone Sousuke accuses him of using when he tries to hide his anger.

            “Makoto,” Rin tells him, a warning.

            He can’t sit here anymore.

            Makoto stands up, ignoring Rin’s protests behind him, and stalks out of the shop.  It’s not like him at all.  He has the patience of a saint or so Sousuke likes to tease.  But one look at Rin like…that has him running for the hills, all semblance of self-control gone.  He wishes he had one of Haru’s passageways in front of him now, the ones he’s been using to get home for the past two weeks.  But he doesn’t.  Haru isn’t even in the shop for all he knows.  So instead he just takes the train home, taking calming breaths that have the other passengers side-eying him nervously.

* * *

 

            He feels so guilty about the way he left things with Rin that he goes back the next morning as soon as he wakes up.  Classes can wait, he decides.  Rin, it seems, cannot.

            But when he gets there, Rin is gone again.  The shop is empty save for Haru cleaning while Nagisa and Rei snore on the tatami mats.  He feels like a bit of an idiot for rushing all the way over here when Rin isn’t even in, but that worry comes over him again, bone crushing in its force, so he stays and studies while he waits.  Haru comes in occasionally, leaving water and food each time.

            “Haru?”  Makoto asks when the light from outside starts to fade and the lights in the shop have to be turned on.

            “Hmm?”

            “What…did you wish for?  I mean…why do you work for Rin?”

            The look Haru gives him is almost pitying in its level of knowing.  Makoto shifts weight nervously under the stare.  “It’s not as simple as a wish,” he states slowly, each word carefully chosen.  When he can see that Makoto doesn’t understand, Haru sighs and sits down next to him at the table.

            “I felt drawn to the shop.  I wanted to know why.  I guess you could say that was my wish.”

            “What about equivalent exchange?”  Because Makoto’s spent long enough listening to Rin tend to customers, giving the same speech over and over again.  A wish like that seems like a simple enough answer.  It shouldn’t require servitude in exchange.

            Haru sighs again, eyes darting to the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in and interrupt them.  “I’m a child of nowhere.  I’ve been alone for as long as I remember.  I was drawn to this shop to serve it.”  Haru looks him straight in the eye.  “Just as Rin was before me.”

            Understanding slides into place, aided by a memory from the Jurougumo’s visit.  _Your time here is waning, shopkeeper_.

            “Rin’s dying?”  He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

            The future shopkeeper just shrugs, never breaking eye contact.

            “But he’s so young,” Makoto insists louder, as if this argument could change Rin’s fate.  His inevitability.

            Haru gives him that pitying look again.  “Rin’s been the shopkeeper for longer than you or I can imagine.”

            That explains so much.  The knowledge Rin has that expands past his 20-year appearance, his interactions with those in the spirit world.  How much he drinks.

            Makoto turns to Haru, defeated.  “So what happens when he’s gone?”

            “The shop will continue.  It may change shape.  It may disappear for a few days.  But it will return with the same purpose as the one here now.”

            _But what happens to_ me?  Makoto bites his lip.  Now is not the time to be selfish.  Not when his whole world is crashing down around his ears.

            He stays the night, falling asleep waiting for Rin with his face down in his textbook.  He hadn’t been able to focus on studying anyway.  He wakes up sometime after midnight to cool hands on his forehead.  He blinks, looking sideways as Rin’s face swims into focus.

            “Rin.”

            The redhead smiles wearily, shadows falling over his face from the moonlight outside.  He looks even worse than he had before.  “Makoto.  I didn’t mean to wake you.”

            “It’s fine.  I was waiting for you anyway.”  He scratches his head, wincing as a pencil falls out of his hair.

            Rin laughs, breathier than usual.  Makoto wonders when the last time he’d slept was.  “If I’d known that, I would’ve come earlier.”  It’s a lie, but Makoto doesn’t call him on it.

            “Rin…”  He starts again, voice suddenly serious.  The smile slips off the shopkeeper’s face.  “Run away with me.  You don’t have to…this isn’t…”

            This time when Rin smiles, it’s devoid of any semblance of true happiness or amusement.  “Where would we go, Makoto?  Where in all the dimensions, in all the universes, could I possibly go that this wouldn’t catch up to us?”

            “You don’t have to die, Rin.  Please…”  He doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore.  What can he, an anomaly without a wish, do that Rin himself couldn’t?

            “Let it go.”

            But he _can’t_.  He won’t.  “I’m in love with you.”

            The silence stretches between them, the shadows lengthening as if trying to eat Makoto’s confession.

            When Rin breaks it, he’s looking out the window at something far away, something Makoto can’t see.  “I met your best friend some time back.  Yamazaki Sousuke, born September 14th.  He had a wish strong enough to draw him to the shop, and when I saw him I thought ‘huh, I know this one.  He hangs around Makoto.’”  Rin’s hands are clenched into fists, shaking visibly against his kimono.  Makoto wants to reach out and sooth it away, but he waits.  “For a moment I was terrified.  We can…see into the hearts of those with wishes.  A brief glimpse, that’s all.  He was clearly filled with worry.  About you.”

            “Rin…”

            “It was so stupid,” Rin barrels over him.  “I was afraid he’d make a wish about you, so before he could even speak I…”  Rin grabs his hair, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.  “We’re not supposed to change someone’s wish.  It was just an impulse; I wasn’t thinking.  I healed his shoulder, and he left.  I don’t even remember what his price was.  I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

            It’s the last sentence, delivered in a quiet, heartbroken voice, which spurs Makoto to move.  He pushes himself away from the table and moves closer to Rin, grabbing the shopkeeper’s wrists before he can move away.

            “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he promises, low and protective as he pushes their foreheads together.

            Rin laughs, dark and cold, his hand twitching, but he doesn’t pull away.  “You can’t do anything about it.”

            Makoto will be damned if he doesn’t try though.  He slides his hands till his fingers can slip between Rin’s, giving the other a small squeeze.  Rin returns it weakly.

            They stay like that, breathing against each other until Rin’s breaths even out, his hands going limp between them.  Makoto carries him to bed, feeling his ribs through his kimono and tries not to break him when he sets Rin down in his own bed.

            He stays the night there, cheek resting on the soft sheets, fingers still tangled in Rin’s.

* * *

 

            Makoto doesn’t go to class the next day, and Rin doesn’t get out of bed.  They both stay confined to the room, interrupted only by Haru coming in to deliver food and drinks.  The sake is conspicuously missing.

            Rin cracks a few weak jokes, and Makoto laughs too hard, trying not to show his concern.  The shopkeeper falls asleep several times in the middle of the conversation, and that’s the only time Makoto lets his face slip out of its mask.  The only time he squeezes Rin’s fingers too hard between his own.

            It gets worse in the next few days.  Makoto grows stubble, and only leaves to clean himself when Rin jokes about the sweat stains on his clothes.  The green kimono is folded where his clothes were before when he gets out of the bath.

            “You didn’t shave,” Rin mumbles later, half asleep.  Makoto’s hunched over so Rin doesn’t have to lift his hand too far to feel the stubble in question.  “You should go back to class tomorrow.”  He says it every night, but before Makoto can recite his well-practiced lines, Rin’s breathing evens out.  Asleep.

            It’s happening faster and more often each day.

            “He’s right, you know.”  Makoto almost jumps out of his skin from the sound of Haru’s voice behind him.  He turns to the other, fingers fumbling for Rin’s automatically.  All embarrassment he had of being seen like this disappeared when Rin had passed out mid-sentence a few days ago.

            “You’re keeping him here,” Haru continues, walking forward with the customary tray of food.  “It will all end if you leave.”

            A spark of anger ignites in Makoto.  Aren’t they friends?  How can Haru _talk_ like that?  “I won’t let him go without a fight,” he growls, anger disappearing when he sees the flicker in Haru’s eyes.

            “His powers are gone, Makoto.  It’s only a matter of time.”  As if he needs the reminder.  He can hear them sometimes, through the door.  The customers coming in, having their wishes granted by Haru instead of Rin.  They don’t even know that there’s another shopkeeper, the _real_ shopkeeper, on the other side of the wall.

            Of course.

            It hits him then, startling in the simplicity of it.  He releases Rin’s hand and stumbles to his feet, face earnest even as Haru shrinks back from him.  “No,” the other says, already able to read his heart.

            “I’ll pay the price,” Makoto promises, stepping forward.

            Haru shakes his head adamantly.  “It’s not a price you want to pay.”

            “There is no price I wouldn’t pay.  I’ll take his place.  I’ll take _your_ place…”

            But Haru’s still shaking his head.  “That’s not the price for something like this.”

            Irritation flashes through him, magnified by nerves and lack of sleep.  “I already said I’d pay any price, Haru.  Save him.  Make him _mortal_.  Don’t let him die like this.”

            “I don’t want…I don’t think…”  The darker haired shopkeeper’s hands flex and clench as he looks around the room everywhere but at Makoto.  He’s struck with the memory from months earlier; Rin leaning over Haru’s body.  The broken voice.  _Haru, wake up._

            He grabs Haru’s hands before the shopkeeper can bolt.  They’re different than Rin’s; callouses where Rin’s were smooth.  Rough where Rin’s were soft.  “I swear to you, Haru.  I won’t regret it.”

            Haru takes a deep breath, eyes closed, like he’s debating what to do.  When he opens them, even though the room is lit only by the cold moon outside, they’re a deep blue that makes Makoto feel like he’s drowning.  Just like Rin’s that first day.  “The price –“

            Makoto shakes his head fervently.  “I don’t want to know.”  He’ll pay any price, but he thinks he might lose his nerve if he knows what it actually is.

            Carefully, slowly, Haru finally nods.  “Then it’s done.”

            Makoto feels relief for the split second before he hits the floor.  Then blackness.

* * *

 

            Sousuke’s feet pound on the pavement as he runs through the unfamiliar streets.  His breath puffs visibly in front of him as he huffs around, frantically searching in the moonlight.  He skids around the corner, stopping short when he sees the empty lot.

            He has a memory of this place.  A distant dream he can’t quite remember, and a less distant memory of Makoto dragging him around insisting that he found a magical shop worked by an angel.

            He rests his palm on the fence, half bent over to catch his breath.  He doesn’t know why he’s here.  All he knows is that a moment ago he was woken from a deep sleep by deep blue eyes and an alarming sense of foreboding regarding his best friend.

            There’s a clink, and Sousuke’s head shoots up.  Through the gate of the abandoned lot, there’s a shorter man half carrying, half dragging an unconscious figure in a green kimono.  He turns towards Sousuke, and the light catches the figure just right.

            “Makoto!”  Sousuke shouts, late night be damned.  The shorter man carrying him doesn’t look surprised to see him standing there.  He looks more bored than anything.  And familiar.  Strangely familiar.

            “What did you do to –“

            “Can you take him?  He’s heavy.”  The man interrupts, nearly dropping Makoto on him.  Sousuke manages to catch him, fingers fumbling to find his pulse.  “He’s alive,” the shorter man states, still staring at him.

            The stare is more than a little unnerving.

            “What happened to him?”  He asks instead, anger still flickering on the edges of his words.

            The man shrugs, rolling his shoulder where he’d been supporting Makoto.  “He overexerted himself this week.”

            “Over…?”  But before his question can even be fully formed, the man is turning around, back to the fence.  “Hey!  I demand an answer.  Is this where he’s been all week?”

            The shorter man pauses but doesn’t turn around.  “When he wakes up, he won’t remember any of this.  Neither will you, I suppose.”

            “What are you – “

            “When you walk back to the station, go between the light pole and the fence.  You can get him home faster that way.”

            Sousuke turns, confused in the direction he came.  It doesn’t look like a short-cut at all.  It looks more like a tight fit than anything else.  He turns back.  “What does –“

            The man’s gone.

            Sousuke huffs and pulls the still unconscious Makoto over his shoulders, fireman style.  He can always just interrogate him in the morning.

* * *

 

            Makoto has three make-up exams and quizzes to do when he finally makes it back to class.  He doesn’t remember all the details about being sick the week prior, a side effect of the fever, he’d been told.  Sousuke keeps shooting him worried glances, like he’s afraid Makoto’s going to pass out on him, but Makoto just shoots him back his patented smile and stays upright.

            They mostly fall back into their routine as usual, though it’s broken now by Sousuke’s return to the pool.  Makoto grabs a flyer on his way home from class one day, a request for a part-time coaching assistant at the local elementary school.  He applies for it, needing the extra experience and cash.

            It becomes a new routine.  Comfortable.  But there’s still an empty void in Makoto’s chest.  One that appeared the day he woke up from that fever.  One that isn’t filled with coaching or classes or Sousuke or frequent calls to his family back home.  He spends his time ignoring it, pushing it to the back of his mind.  It’s not real, he tells himself.  There’s nothing in his life that he’s missing.

            “We have a new transfer student,” Sousuke informs him over lunch one Tuesday.  “From Australia.”

            Makoto swallows his noodles.  “Does he speak Japanese?”

            “Yeah.  He is Japanese.  I guess he just went to school there for a while, but now he wants to try and compete for the Japanese National Team.”

            “Wow,” Makoto teases, poking his best friend with his chopsticks.  “One conversation and you already know so much about him.”

            Sousuke swats away Makoto’s chopsticks with his own.  “Shut up.  He’s just weird, that’s all.”

            “Mhm.”

            “Anyway,” Sousuke resolutely ignores him.  “We’re going to take him out to a Korean barbeque.  Prove that it’s better than whatever crap he ate down under.  Wanna come?”

            He still has so much homework to make up, swim drills to write, and thousands of other things.  “Yeah, sounds fun.”

            He gets there a little after half the team, already gathered around the table.  They know him well by now, being Sousuke’s plus one on many an occasion, so they scoot over and invite him to join them.  He barely sits down before he hears his best friend come in, along with the guest of honor apparently.

            “Matsuoka, look who finally decided to join.”

            “Can it, Mikoshiba,” comes the retort.  The voice pulls at his memory, but when he tries to chase it a headache threatens to overwhelm him.  He puts it away with a note to poke at it later.

            Sousuke’s hand is on his shoulder, urging him to stand.  “This is the best friend I was telling you about.  Makoto, this is Matsuoka.”

            “Pleased to meet you,” he says automatically, bowing.  When he stands up straight, his breath catches.

            He’s the most beautiful man Makoto’s ever seen.  His hair, still wet from practice earlier, is wine red and hangs down a little longer than the rest of the team’s.  His skin is flawless, slightly browned from swimming down in Australia.  He’s smiling at Makoto, holding his hand out to shake, his red eyes fixed on Makoto’s own.  Deep in Makoto’s chest, he feels the void slide shut.

            “Please to meet you, uh…”

            “Tachibana Makoto.”

            “Tachibana.”

            He doesn’t like that.  It sounds wrong coming from the redhead’s mouth.  “Ah, just Makoto.”

            The redhead’s smile widens.  “Just Makoto then.  I’m Matsuoka Rin.  But you can call me Just Rin.”

            Makoto finally clasps his hand.  “I hope we get along well, Just Rin.”

            Rin chuckles.  “Somehow, I think we will.”


End file.
